


Just One Normal Night

by lostin_space



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Late at Night, M/M, Mentions of bombing, Sexual Content, the lost decade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26472130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostin_space/pseuds/lostin_space
Summary: Micahel woke up in the middle of the night to his phone ringing. His phone never rang.
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 78
Kudos: 262





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt: "Stay there. I'm coming to get you."](https://spaceskam.tumblr.com/post/627093846540566528/one-hundred-ways-to-say-i-love-you)

Micahel woke up in the middle of the night to his phone ringing. His phone never rang.

He reached for it, more annoyed than concerned, and squinted as it threatened to blind him. It was a random number. He almost ignored it, but something about it grabbed his attention. What would it hurt if he answered and it was a wrong number?

“Hello?” he asked, fighting a yawn.

“Oh, thank _God_ , please tell me you're in Roswell," a voice he'd recognize anywhere whispered into the phone. Michael sat up, his heart already thudding in his chest.

"Alex?" he asked cautiously, scared to be wrong.

"Yeah," he whispered, "Are you in Roswell?"

"Yeah, where are you?"

"Outskirts of Roswell, that military bar between Roswell and the base? They dragged me here and... and I don't wanna be here," Alex whispered, laughing dryly, "Currently hiding in the bathroom."

Michael swallowed, "Stay there, I'm coming to get you."

Alex sighed of relief, "Thank you."

Michael hadn't heard from Alex in over a year, before he even got a phone. He wasn't sure how he even had his number or how long he'd been so close or why he'd waited. None of it mattered though and he jumped into his truck.

He sped there and found himself in the parking lot in 15 minutes. He stared at the building that was packed with soldiers and sailors and he knew he probably shouldn't walk in there. He wasn't in the mood for that kind of attention. Besides, he was in torn up sweats and an even more torn up t-shirt and barefoot. With a little bit of hesitation, he pulled out his phone and called the number that had called him. Alex picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," he said eagerly. Michael still wasn't convinced this wasn't a joke.

"I'm here."

"Give me a couple seconds."

And Michael did. Things still didn't feel real even as Alex came speed-walking out of the bar. Michael held his breath, waiting to wake up. He didn't and Alex got in the passenger seat.

"Hi," Alex said, smiling despite how utterly exhausted he looked. He smelled like secondhand smoke and cheap cologne, but he looked like Alex. He leaned in a little, but he stopped himself and bit his bottom lip. "Drive, please?"

Michael didn't speak and simply obeyed. He got to the edge of the parking lot and looked both ways before going to turn left. However, Alex quickly put his hand on his arm and told him to go right.

"Why? Where are we going?" Michael asked after taking a right. Alex's hand slid up from his arm up to his shoulder and squeezed gently.

"Take a left at the stop sign," Alex said instead of an answer.

"Okay."

Michael listened to his directions and Alex fiddled with his hair, tucking it behind his ear a few times before cupping the back of his neck. It took twenty minutes before they started driving down a long, unlit, unpaved pathway that was surrounded by trees and extremely easy to miss if you weren't looking for it. It felt like a horror movie and that paired with his complete misunderstanding on how Alex was here, he'd completely accepted that this was a really weird dream. Whatever happened, happened.

They eventually rolled to a stop outside a dark, slightly run down cabin. Michael had no recognition of it. Alex took a deep, shaky breath before stepping out of the truck. Michael waited a few seconds before following.

He stepped up to the dark porch and Alex was standing in front of the door, his key in the lock but he didn't turn it. Alex looked over at him and he licked his lips. And then he licked Michael's.

Without much of a warning, Alex's hand was on the back of his neck again and he was kissing him without any hesitation. Michael kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm. This dream felt really fucking real and Michael had missed him too much to ask questions.

The kisses seemed to give Alex strength and he broke the kiss to turn the key, his other hand still on Michael's neck to keep him close. The door creaked open, old and ominous and Alex pulled him inside.

The cabin was underused and a little dusty, but it felt homey. The head of a buck was mounted on the wall and the decorations were all either bones or memorabilia, all of it dull and earth toned. Despite the cold of the night, it was warm and welcoming. Or maybe that was just Alex.

Alex kicked the door shut and looked around for a second before throwing his jacket on the ground and reaching for the hem of Michael's shirt. Michael went with it, kissing him and stripping him until they were both completely bare as they made their way towards the couch.

Alex pushed him down onto the hard, underused couch that was probably from the 70s, and he climbed into his lap. Michael pulled him close, breathing him in and touching him wherever he could. His skin was so warm. Michael didn't want to wake up.

"I miss you," Michael whispered against his lips. Alex nodded, leading his head to his neck. He cradled his face there, letting Michael kiss his neck sloppily as he took the time to spit into the palm of his hand.

Michael wasn't quite sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't Alex taking himself himself in his hand like he did. He swallowed hard as Alex bowed his head, his lips against his ear as he took shallow breaths and made nearly inaudible moans. Michael pressed his hands against his ass, tugging him until they were chest to chest and he could feel Alex's hand moving between them.

"Alex," he breathed, "I can do that."

"You sure? You were taking too long."

"Thought you liked slow."

"Shh, we'll go slow next time."

Michael wasn't sure there was a next time. He was going to wake up after this. He wanted to make it last. But Alex wanted him now and, honestly, that was nice too.

He covered Alex's hand with his own, slowing the pace he set and kissing his jaw. Alex's bicep tensed against Michael's head, holding him closer as he moaned quietly. Michael moved his hips just a little, desperate for some friction of his own, yet entirely willing to wait. He was completely satisfied with Alex in his hand.

And they stayed like that for a little while until Alex finished. Then Alex followed that by dragging his hand down the mess he made on Michael's stomach and grabbing him which was... _a lot._

He finished quickly after that which seemed to be Alex's goal from the way he could feel his smile against his jaw through his heavy breaths. Michael caught his breath and wrapped his arms around him, holding him close and refusing to let go.

Alex eventually laid down and Michael laid on top of him, his arms still around him with his head on his chest. Alex played with his hair and pressed kisses to his forehead every once in awhile. They were probably plastered together and Michael genuinely didn't want it any other way. He didn't want to wake up.

"Jim Valenti died," Alex whispered, so soft that Michael didn't even react. He just breathed.

"I'm sorry," he said. He didn't really know what kind of relation Alex had to the Sheriff, but he said the information like there was a reason for saying it.

"I'm okay," Alex whispered. Michael nodded. "I got off for the funeral. Couldn't make myself go."

"Oh," Michael said. He tried to lift his head to see if Alex was actually okay, but Alex held him down and he didn't fight it.

"It's okay. He didn't expect me to go," Alex said, breathing in deep, "I never liked them when I was little."

Was it weird that after six years of loving him, that was the first time he'd heard anything about when he was little?

"Gave me this cabin, though," Alex breathed. Oh. They had sex in Alex's cabin. Alex's house. Butterflies that couldn't read the room bloomed in his stomach.

"It's nice," Michael said. Alex laughed softly, grabbing a fistful of his hair and carefully tilting his head back to give him a kiss. Michael kissed back and made a noise in protest as they ended shortly after they started. Alex's nose nuzzled into the top of his head in response.

"I have both keys," Alex told him, "Won't have to stay with my dad or in a hotel when I get vacation time." _Or with you_ , he didn't say. Michael swallowed harshly.

"Oh."

"C'mere," Alex urged, pulling him back into another kiss. This one didn't end like the one before, this dragged out for the rest of the night. He fell asleep kissing him.

Michael expected to wake up in his bed, expected to wake up hating his brain for its cruelty. Instead, he woke up alone on that hard couch. He wasn't as gross as he could've been since someone had cleaned him up and there was an itchy blanket covering him. But he was still alone.

"Alex?" he called, foolishly hopeful that if that wasn't a dream, then he'd get a morning with him. But he didn't. The house was quiet and, as far as Michael could tell, empty. It left him with a hollow feeling.

He wanted to stay and see if Alex was going to come back, but he had work and he wasn't quiet sure where he even was. Even though it was real, it was still a fucking fever dream. Part of him hated Alex for that, but a much bigger part loved him even more than he had twenty-four hours prior. That always happened when he got a chance meeting with that man. He spent the next week trying to stop thinking about him.

It took him two weeks to realize he'd left the cabin with one more key than he arrived with.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael renovates the cabin for Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to [ul1tsa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ul1tsa/pseuds/ul1tsa) for the idea!
> 
> Warning: talk of Jesse and his bullshit & bombs

Michael waited a few weeks before he got drunk and lost that thing in his brain that kept him from doing dumb shit. 

He went to the cabin and unlocked the door with his key. He didn't usually use keys, he had one in his brain, but there was something about having a key to Alex's place that felt special. Besides, he needed to make sure that's actually what it was. He pushed the door open and tried the light switches. The bulb on the porch was out. He'd need to get a new one.

He slowly navigated around the space, making a list of tiny things that were bothersome. He didn't even know if he was welcome here... But why else would Alex give him a key?

It was a two bedroom and had a bathroom that connected the two rooms. The kitchen was small and it didn't have a washing machine or dryer. The living room was old. None of it looked like Alex. What exactly would Alex's space even look like? He'd figure it out.

He went back outside to the wrap around porch, walking around it slowly and holding onto the rail. There were a few old boards that could stand being replaced. There was a window unit in each bedroom. He didn't figure it'd be too hard to change that for a central air system.

Michael went back inside and towards the kitchen. The refrigerator was unplugged, so he moved it to plug it back in. The cabinets were empty aside from some old canned beans and a single pan. He went back to the living room.

The couch was even more uncomfortable than he remembered, hard and a little dusty. He sat down anyway and rubbed his hand over it. When he laid down and breathed in, it didn't smell like Alex. It was unfair. Cruel, even.

He laid there anyway, lulling himself to sleep with the memory of Alex's skin.

-

It became a thing.

When his mind got chaotic and he needed something to do with his hands, he'd go to the cabin. He replaced boards, cleaned, hooked up a washing machine and dryer. After a couple months, he bought a comfier couch from an old lady who was selling it. He took down the hunting memoribillia and tried to find things that Alex might like. A couple trinkets bought during a trip to the nearby reservation, a painting bought from an artist who showed her work at the renaissance festival, and a hand-woven blanket from an older lady who traveled all the way from the Navajo Nation to sell the two she made a month at the market–and then vowed that he would never pay that much money for anything ever again.

He started spending more time there than he spent at his airstream and, after passing out on the couch after spending his entire day off trying to set up a central air system, he decided it might be worth buying food. So he did. He bought a few things, added three extra locks to the front and back doors, and brought his thrifted silverware and dishes from the airstream to set up a place for himself there. 

It was slowly coming together. It felt like a home. He bought a broom. 

He didn't tell Isobel or Max about any of this, they didn't need to know about Alex. Instead, Michael kept it to himself and spun lies about where he was whenever they asked questions. Usually they didn't. He was Michael, after all, it wasn't that odd for him to drop off the map.

He eventually started fixing up the bedrooms which were a little harder. It looked too much like a middle aged man stayed there and that was absolutely not the look he was going for. He got new bedspreads and sheets from a discount store and matching bedside tables from the dump that only needed some sanding and some finish to make nice. A new showerhead made out of things he found around the junkyard fit nice too. He played with the water heater until it stopped needing to be manually reset every 60 gallons, sanded and put finish on the dresser, built a new bed frame and headboard out of scrap wood, and fixed the janky doorknob of the closet. It looked livable now.

Alex's birthday came around and he didn't have a number to reach him, so Michael did something a little stupid and a little sentimental and found himself at a thrift store. He bought a set of two identical rocking chairs for the back porch. He almost threw them out three times, but he decided on leaving them there and just ignoring them until he stopped feeling like they were too much.

There was something about the cabin as it came together that both felt like home and like it was far too sacred to make a mess of. He kept it cleaner than he'd ever kept a place before. The dishes were always done, his dirty clothes always ended up in the laundry basket, never let himself get drunk enough that he'd be compelled to make a mess, and he swept and mopped every Sunday. His shampoo and body wash didn't leave rings in the bathtub.

It was nice.

-

It was about a year into renovating and six months into practically moving in when he found a broken telecision in the junkyard that someone had dropped.off. Curiosity got the best of him and he found himself trying to make it work in his free time. There was a strange sense of pride when he plugged it in and it turned on, the picture only slightly tinted blue and the sound as perfect as the speakers would allow. He wrapped it up in a couple blankets and loaded it into his truck, stopping by a thrift store on the way to the cabin to buy a few interesting DVDs for 50¢ a piece. He couldn't remember the last time he actively sat down to watch a movie for fun.

It took about thirty minutes to mount it above the fireplace, but eventually it was up and he found himself smiling as he put in a shitty mid-2000s straight-to-DVD teen movie. It played easily and he smiled wider. If there was one thing fixing up the cabin did, it was make him smile. It felt good to fix things up.

Michael grabbed a beer that was beside the leftovers in the fridge and settled on the couch, kicking his shoes off and pulling a blanket onto his lap. His phone was on the coffee table and charging with an alarm queued up to wake him up for work in the morning .It was the most normal he'd ever felt and he never wanted to give it back. 

And it seemed like he wouldn't have to until the door creaked open.

Michael shot to his feet, standing like he was caught red handed as Alex stepped inside. He was still in uniform, a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. His eyes were wide with wonder, though, as he looked around at all the shit Michael had done. It was the first time he regretted it.

"I'm sorry," Michael blurred out, catching Alex's attention, "I should've asked. I shouldn't have changed shit and I shouldn't have stayed here, I'm sorry, I'll go." 

"Guerin, relax," Alex said, smiling in a pure way that Michael hadn't seen since they were seventeen, "I knew you were staying here."

"You did?" Michael asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he said, carefully putting down the duffle bag and closing the door, "Electric bill?" 

Michael's eyes widened. "Oh, fuck, I forgot about that, I'm so sorry."

"Guerin," Alex laughed, "Stop. I'm happy you're staying here. I don't mind, really."

Michael swallowed and tried to believe him when he said he was happy. Because Michael was happy. Happy to be here, happy to see Alex, happy to see where tonight led. He tapped his hands against his thighs as Alex took another look around.

"I didn't expect all this, though," Alex breathed. 

"It's, uh, not all of it. I can show you around?" Michael offered awkward. Alex smiled wider and nodded. 

So Michael gave him a tour of his own house. He showed him the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, and how the locks on the doors worked. Alex put the duffle bag in the closet and gently touched Michael's shirt that was hanging in there like he didn't believe it was actually there. Michael stood with his hands clasped behind his back and rocked up on his toes as Alex felt over the headboard he made and the blanket on the bed. He shook his head, looking over at Michael. 

"I can't... I can't believe you did all of this," Alex said, looking at him. He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he looked like he was about to cry.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to–"

"Michael," he cut him, laughing softly as he came closer. He touched his arm, his hand sliding up as he moved in closer and draped his arms around Michael's neck. Michael rested his hands on his hips. "I love it so much. But it's so much. How much did you spend? Let me pay you back."

"No, don't. Most of it's stuff I fixed from broken stuff or I got for super cheap, I barely spent $300 over the last year," he said. He purposefully left out what he spent on the more decorative things, those could simply be gifts from all the birthdays he missed. 

"Still," Alex said, swallowing hard as he reached out and touched Michael's cheek. Michael leaned into it. He hadn't realized how successful he'd been at distracting himself from missing Alex until then. "This is all so nice. I-I don't even know what to say. I didn't expect this at all."

"I mean... I just didn't like that it looked like an angry old man lived here, I get enough of that with Sanders," Michael said. He was struggling to see what about the dumb little things made Alex emotional. In fact, they were selfish. He wanted to pretend Alex wasn't a million miles away. That was as selfish as it got. But Alex laughed and kissed him and Michael stopped feeling guilty.

"Thank you," Alex gushed against his lips, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Everything about this was completely contrary to Alex's last visit home. It wasn't confusing or blurry and he felt safe. He felt loved. He clung to Alex and kissed him hard, trying to quench the desperate, overwhelming feeling in his stomach.

"I gotta take a shower, I'm gross from that fucking plane and I need to be clean for the things I wanna do to you," Alex breathed, pulling away just a little. Michael nodded, going in for another kiss anyway. Alex giggled and leaned back. "It'll be quick, I promise."

"I worked all day, I need one too, so let me join?" Michael asked. Pleaded, really. He didn't want to let go.

"Good idea," Alex said, "Do you have a security system set up?"

"It's next on my list," Michael said honestly. Alex grinned, cupping his cheek in his hand and slowly starting to pull him to the bathroom. 

"Good boy."

-

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything and you know it."

Alex huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Michael loved seeing him like that. His hair was slightly past regulation, laying on his forehead and smashed against the pillow. After a long shower and stumbling into bed, they'd finally wore themselves out. Now they were in bed in Alex's house.

Their house.

Alex shifted to face him, face a little too serious consider the circumstances. Michael slowly faded to seriousness to fit it. Alex reached out, fingers grazing Michael's cheek and down his neck, over his shoulder, down to his torn up hand. Michael very quickly got serious and watched him pull his hand up to his lips.

"It's embarassing," Alex said.

"Since when have I been known to judge you?" Michael asked, stretching his leg out to wedge between Alex's. Alex parted his knees just enough to lock their legs together.

"I just... I've been thinking about my dad," Alex whispered.

"Uh oh," Michael said, trying to lighten the mood. Alex rolled his eyes.

"I've been trying to work through all my issues, I guess, since I realized you were staying here. I want this to work, you know?" Alex said and Michael was all ears, "And I think I didn't realize he was a bad guy until I saw him do this."

"What do you mean?" Michael said before he could process if that was a smart thing to ask.

"Like, I spent so many years thinking that my mom was the bad one because she left and at least my dad was there. It didn't matter if he beat me as long as he was there," Alex explained. Michael didn't really understand, but, with all the things they felt that overlapped, it was fine if he didn't understand that one thing. "And I... Even when I rebelled, I just wanted his approval. Part of me still does. I think I always will. Which is stupid because all the attention he gives me is solely on his terms, especially when it's positive."

"He's not worth it."

"I know," Alex said, smiling slightly before he kissed his hand again, "Logically, I know. But illogically... I'm still trying to remind myself he's a bad guy. It just took me so long to see it."

Michael didn't say anything, simply nodded and let Alex touch him as he needed to keep himself calm. Whatever kept him in bed, kept him in their space. He didn't know how long Alex was going to be home and he was too scared to ask, so he didn't. 

"But, I'm trying," Alex sighed, looking at him in the eyes. He was so intense with every look and sometimes Michael felt compelled to look away, but not in moments like this. Never in moments like this. "I don't want to mess this up by trying to please him." 

"I don't wanna fuck up either."

"I think we're on a good track, though," Alex smiled, tightening his legs and tugging Michael impossibly close. Just where he wanted to be. "Off topic, but I'm hungry."

Michael laughed softly and was incredibly thankful for a subject change. "I have leftover pasta in the fridge if you want that."

Alex smiled ridiculously wide for something as meaningless as day old pasta. 

"Leftovers," Alex repeated in a whimsical tone, "You're gonna make a good little househusband."

"Shut the fuck up," Michael laughed, shoving his shoulder. Alex laughed right back and moved to get up. Michael followed suit without question. There was no way he was leaving his side.

"Let's eat." 

-

Michael woke up to his alarm and an empty bed.

Panic struck him and he thought about calling out for Alex, but his voice wouldn't work as if subconsciously knowing the answer. Terrified, even. He slowly pushed himself out of bed, pulling on a pair of jeans. Dread continued to pool in him as he tiptoed out of the room and into the empty living room. But it smelled like coffee which was definitely a good sign.

It took him only a few seconds to see that Alex was out on the back porch in one of the rocking chairs. His heart seemed to skip a beat or two or four. The sun hit his shirtless body perfectly and he seemed to fucking glow. Michael had to take a few deep breaths before he stepped outside.

""Morning," Alex hummed, looking over at him. His hair was still a mess, but he looked better rested than Michael had seen him in a long time. 

"I thought you left," he said stupidly. Alex shook his head.

"I can't really sleep in anymore and I didn't wanna wake you up. Sorry if I scared you."

"It's okay," he said. And it really, really was. This was the perfect sight to see in the morning and it made him angry at Sanders for employing him. "I, uh, I have to go to work. I can call in, though."

"Don't," Alex said with a warm smile, "I'll be here when you get home."

Michael felt his whole body heat up at that. Home. Alex would be here. He wasn't sure he would actually believe it until he saw it.

"Yeah, uh," Michael said, clearing his throat, "How-how, like, how long are you..."

"Michael," Alex said, standing up and walking closer. Michael was going to melt if he kept saying his name. Alex kept his mug firmly in one hand and touched his cheek with the other. "I'm home for a month."

"A month," Michael breathed. Alex smiled and nodded, leaning forward to kiss him. It sounded like a short period of time, but it would be longest consecutive time they'd ever spent together. Ever. It sounded fake.

"So, go to work. I'm not going anywhere," he promised. It was hard to listen, but he did.

And you know what? Alex was home when he got there that afternoon.

\- 

"Where the fuxk are you living?"

"Airstream."

Michael spoke casually as Isobel stood by his feet as he worked on the car. He knew it was wrong to lie to her about something like this, but, fuck, he was barely sure this was real himself. He'd woken up to Alex for three whole weeks and he only had one left. He wasn't wasting that time and he wasn't bursting his domestic bubble.

"Stop lying to me! You haven't lived at the airstream for months now," Isobel argued, "You're never here at night and if I call you, it takes you for fucking ever to get to my house. Where are you staying?"

He sighed, trying to ignore her more and more. It didn't work very well as she stood her ground and basically decided she would follow him when he left work if he didn't tell her.

"It's a cabin outside of town, okay?" he caved, deciding on a half-truth. He didn't need to say it was Alex's.

"A cabin?" Isobel asked skeptically, "And you just haven't told me or shown me? What if something happens? I need to know where to find you, Michael."

"Fine, fine, okay?" he sighed, "Just, give me a week. It's a fucking wreck."

"You promise?" she asked. He nodded. "Good."

If he couldn't keep his home a secret, he could at least keep Alex to himself for a little while. He could deal with that later. In a week, his house would be empty. In a week, his bed would be empty. 

He could deal with her then.

-

The bed was a lot of colder than he remembered.

-

January 30th, 2017 at 21:45. 

Or, at least that's when Michael found out. The actual event happened on the 26th, a bombing injuring 30 Airmen and killing 3. There wasn't an article about it and he didn't receive a call. Instead, when he was stalking one of the mothers of a guy in Alex's group, he saw she posted about the bombing and saying her son was one of the lucky ones and thanking God. Michael nearly had a breakdown.

He spent the next hour calling Alex and when that didn't work, he started calling down a list of military hospitals. He found him eventually at Landstuhl and had to lie about being his brother to get him on the phone along with a warning about him being drugged up. But at least he was alive.

"Alex?" Michael whispered. Once again, he found him scared that Alex wouldn't answer. But he's spent an hour panicking and he wasn't about to just not talk. 

"Huh?" Alex said, voice hoarse. Michael closed his eyes, bowing his head. It was small, but it was something.

"Hey," Michael croaked, doing his best not to cry. He wanted to go see him. He couldn't. It didn't work that way. As nice as it was when they pretended they didn't have a care in they world, they did have a care. His name was Jesse Manes. Not to mention the giant alien hole he hadn't even told Alex about... "You scared me."

"Sorry," Alex said. Michael breathed in deep.

"No, it's okay. How are you feeling?" 

"Tired," he whined, "I wanna see you " 

Michael looked up, blinking away tears as quick as he could. It was difficult, but he managed it. He could cry later.

"I know, I wanna see you too. Maybe you can come home soon and I can," Michael suggested. Alex hummed a noncommittal tune. "So, uh, what all happened? Did you get, um, get burned or something?"

"A little," Alex said. Michael swallowed harshly. "Hey, you know what they did? They took my leg."

Michael's breath caught in his throat. 

"What?"

"My leg," Alex repeated, that sort of dazed tone in his voice, "Couldn't save it, had to go."

Michael didn't know what to say. He didn't know how he was supposed to react to this. There wasn't a handbook. Instead of letting himself react like he was the one who lost something, he fed off of Alex's tone.

"How do you feel about that?" Michael asked. Alex hummed.

"My foot itched all day and there was nothing to scratch."

Michael huffed a laugh, rubbing the hell of his hand beneath his eyes to try to get rid of the tears.

"Well, if that's the worst of it, sounds like you're doing good."

"They gave me so many drugs," Alex told him, yawning halfway through. Michael smiled and nodded even though he couldn't see him. "I'm tired."

"Do you want me to let you go to sleep?" Michael asked. Alex didn't answer and that felt like an answer enough. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

"Mhm."

"I love you so much," Michael said. He didn't think about it, he just said it. It needed to be said.

"Mhm."

Michael huffed another laugh again, "Goodnight, Alex."

He ended the call and looked around the house that he'd spent over a year of his life renovating. He tried to picture Alex in it again, a version of Alex who might need accessibilities he didn't think of when he did things the first time around.

And now he had new projects. 

-

Turns out it was pretty easy to widen doorways.

It took Michael about two days to widen one Interior door, ripping off the door frame and sawing through the wall itself. He widened them all from 30" to 38" in width and felt thankful that the exterior doors were all double doors. He didn't even know if Alex would be using a wheelchair, but it felt like a safe option regardless.

He ripped out the tub from the bathroom, replacing it with one with a little more traction on the bottom. He installed bars all around the bathroom and a wooden seat that was attached to the wall so it could fold up or down when he needed it. 

Again, he found himself taking a lap around the porch to check for any loose boards or nails. He fixed any that even might've been questionable. It gave him the idea to add ramps beside the steps to the porch. He built them and jumped on them as hard as he could go make sure they didn't break. 

It helped when he got angry–ngry at something, angry at nothing, angry at everything–to put things back together again. It made him feel useful even when phone calls consisted of Alex being short with him and hanging up. He was focusing on PT and learning how to use a prosthetic and Michael knew it was frustrating. He could hear it in his voice even when he refused to talk about it. He always refused to talk about it. Some days he refused to talk at all.

He refused to let it out distance between them. 

On extra bad days, Michael would drink and Google random accessibility ideas. He knew Alex. As sweet as he thought his renovating for him was, he knew Alex would be too stubborn to ask him for help on anything. He wanted to make it so he didn't have to as much as possible. Open spaces, all but gluing the rug down, a bench at the foot of the bed, a chair in the bathroom, a stool with wheels in the kitchen, sanding down the sharp edges of the kitchen table, dumb shit that might help maybe once. 

He was trying because Alex was trying. They still wanted to make this work.

And they were going to no matter what. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex comes home again.

Michael saw the smoke coming from the chimney before he saw the cabin.

A ton of thoughts ran through his head, most of them going back to the fact the alarm system was set up to his phone and nothing had gone off. So, if he drove a little faster as a way to subdue the way his heart was slamming in his chest, no one needed to know.

The feeling in his gut was, honestly, rather unnecessary. He knew who was in the cabin. There was only one person it _could_ be. A person he hadn’t seen in forever, a person he’d been stressing about for a year. In January, Alex lost his leg. In March, his father got him paired with the some of the best prosthetist and physical therapist in the country because he _knew a guy._ Since then, Alex had been buying his time, learning himself again as he healed. They talked on the phone as much as possible, but most of Alex’s calls consisted of him being unsure when he could come home to see him.

Now it was December and there was smoke coming from their chimney.

Michael didn’t even bother getting to groceries out of the truck as he ran inside. Sure enough, Alex was on the couch, a blanket over him and a pillow tucked under his head. His eyes were closed and he seemed completely at peace as the Gilmore Girls theme song played, the fireplace crackled, and a prosthetic leg and a crutch beside the coffee table. It was almost too much.

“You’re home,” Michael said softly, quickly kneeling beside the couch and reaching out to touch his cheek. He was careful, part of him expecting his hand to go right through him. It didn’t.

Alex’s eyes fluttered open sleepily and he gave a small smile before just closing them again. Michael had to swallow whatever seemed to be caught in his throat a few times before he worked up the courage to lean forward and kiss his forehead. He was real. He was _home._

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Michael asked softly, his fingers trailing up to his hair, “I would’ve picked you up from the airport. Or, shit, at least have been _home.”_

“It’s a surprise,” Alex answered, voice rough from lack of use. Michael could’ve cried at the sound.

“The best surprise,” he said, his thumb tracing his cheekbone as he took him in.

“I noticed all the little things you did,” Alex said softly, “You’re too good for me.”

“No, nothing’s too good for you,” Michael insisted, kissing his cheek and then his nose. He didn’t know how else to get the point across that he missed him so much it hurt. He just covered him in kisses until he laughed.

“Come lay with me if you’re gonna do all that,” Alex said, his hand gliding over his arm, “And kiss me where it counts.”

“I have groceries in the truck, if I get on the couch with you, I’m not going to get up and everything is gonna go bad,” Michael said, still letting himself find Alex’s mouth with his own. It was a welcome place to be, his soft lips feeling completely and utterly perfect. It was hard to pull away.

“Then go fast,” Alex said against him, giving him a little shove. Michael decided not to argue if only because that would mean even more time before he got to lay beside him.

The smile on his face was overwhelming as he gathered the bags from his truck. He glanced at Alex again as he carried them all through the door in one trip, kicking it closed as he carried it to the kitchen. He put away the things that went in the freezer or the refrigerator, leaving the things that were meant for the cabinets out on the counter.

And he went back to Alex.

Michael quickly fit himself between Alex’s body and the back of the couch, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist. It’d been nearly a year since Alex’s amputation at the point and he was, for the most part, as good as new, but Michael was still careful as he let his hand feel over his leg. He used his hand to part Alex’s thigh to fit his knee between them without bumping into anything that didn’t want to be bumped, finding himself extremely successful as Alex laughed and twisted a bit like it tickled.

“C’mere,” Alex urged, reaching over to pull Michael to kiss him. It was almost surreal to simply be kissing him this way out in the open, in _their_ space. _Their_ home, _their_ couch.

If someone had told him a few years prior that he’d be living this kind of life, he’d have thought they were lying.

He was mindful, but still let himself touch Alex as he always had. Gripping his side and his thigh, pressing into him, pulling him close, putting pressure behind every touch. Alex didn’t complain as he molded into it.

“I’m only home for a week, so I’m gonna need you to spend all of your free time like this, hope that’s okay,” Alex murmured, parting his lips to press in harder. Michael instinctively laughed. Touching him for an entire week wasn’t a difficult task.

But then the first past of his sentence set in.

“What do you mean you’re only home for a week?” Michael asked, reluctantly pulling away. 

Alex’s face was flushed and he clearly wasn’t ready to stop, but Michael would be thinking too loud if he didn’t get an answer. He’d always been under the assumption that Alex was going to be accepting an honorable discharge. That when he came home, he’d be _home._

But the look on Alex’s face said otherwise.

“Michael, I still have a year and a half left,” Alex said softly. Michael leaned back into the couch, his heart feeling perhaps too heavy.

“But...”

“It’ll be okay,” Alex said softly, reaching out to touch his cheek, “We’ve done it this long. Besides, in June, I’m up for reassignment and I _think_ I can talk them into letting me be stationed in Roswell.”

“But you got _hurt,”_ Michael said. Alex smiled wryly.

“But I’m still useful so it doesn’t matter,” he said. Michael swallowed, looking up to the TV to see Rory and Lorelai arguing. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with Alex like that.

“But...”

“I know it sucks,” Alex said, twisting to face him. His hand slid up his chest to cup his jaw. “But I’m not gonna re-up and I’m gonna do what I can to get stationed in Roswell.”

“I just got you back,” Michael groaned, dropping his head to Alex’s neck. Alex hummed, his hand sliding into his hair and pulling him close. 

“It’s not forever,” Alex whispered, “I’ll come home.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> also on my tumblr: spaceskam


End file.
